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Saturday, June 19, 2010

She rolls the nicotine lozenge aroundin her mouth, staving off a cigarette.She stares through half open shutters, triesto visualize the ninety-eight degreeheat, too hot to walk the dogs too hot to repot the phlox, the dirtycopper fountain has lost its splash, water sliding across the leaves in subdued murmurs. The fish lies at the bottom of his bowlbored by the stillness of her bedroom. Trying to squeeze good words from her brainshe sips cold coffee from a stained mugstares at the stack of journals on her desk, her bra dangling from the arm of the chair where she flung it last night, a basket of booksthe photo of her father in Navy dress. The drone of a lawn tractor fills her nose withperfumed memories of his push mowerthrowing blades of grass pasting themselves onhis trousers as he leans into his toila green cloud of sweetness stirring the air.